


Assorted Comment Fic 3/23/16

by dreamsofspike



Category: Glee, Grimm (TV), Supernatural, The Voice (US) RPF, The Voice RPF, White Collar
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-28 14:29:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 2,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6332755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamsofspike/pseuds/dreamsofspike
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Comment Fic Written and Posted on 3/23/16, for various fandoms - Glee, Grimm, White Collar, Supernatural, and The Voice. </p><p>Warnings: vague reference to homophobic violence, general violence, one instance of character death, knifeplay, some rough sex and mild D/s elements</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Supernatural - Dean pairings

**Dean/Cas - "heaven is every color of the rainbow"  
  
** Heaven is... brighter, somehow.  
  
That's one thing Dean remembers clearly from his brief visit there.  
  
The real world is filled with shades of darkness, shadows that mute the reds and greens and blues and constantly remind him of the dangers always ready and waiting for the first moment when you let your guard down and close your eyes.  
  
In those early days, when Cas is newly fallen, it's all he can talk about - forlornly lamenting the heightened senses he no longer has as a mere mortal man. Dean does his best to distract Cas, to seek out and share with him the simple pleasures of humanity that he might not have experienced yet.  
  
The taste of fresh apple pie, perfectly complemented by the chilled sweetness of ice cream melting slowly on his tongue - the scent of fresh fallen rain, while the clouds are still rolling across the sky - the thrill of a freshly won fight, and the bone-weariness that comes along with it, aching and sore but _so good_...  
  
Cas's eyes light up with each new experience, and Dean finds himself feeling it all like it's the first time - newly bright and full and vibrant - and then one day, Cas turns that pure, adoring smile on his, eyes warm and sparkling with joy... and that's when Dean _knows_.  
  
He's found his own little piece of heaven right here - fallen to earth, and right into his arms.  
  
  
 **Dean/Crowley - "one wrong step"**  
  
This is by far the most dangerous, reckless thing he's done in the several hundred years of his existence.  
  
The First Blade pressed against his throat, just shy of enough pressure to draw blood, Dean's free hand sliding under his clothes, Dean's lips twitching in the beginnings of a smirk under black eyes as he leans in to whisper, "Move an inch... I dare you..."  
  
The demon king barely dares to breathe - but he can't help thinking that if Dean's wicked game is the end of him, at least he'll die with far more satisfaction than any moment that he's lived.  
  
  
 **Dean/Crowley - "no such thing as a lost soul"**  
  
It's no bloody fair, really.  
  
You'd think that selling one's soul, going through an eternity of suffering with the express intent of burning away what's left of one's humanity, followed by years of presiding over the suffering and torment and utter destruction of humanity would render one impenetrable - untouched by such paltry things as human emotion, especially something as tedious and common as a simple _broken heart_.  
  
But for all he's been through and all he's done, Crowley can't help the ache in his throat, the burn of sulfurous tears behind his eyes, as Dean casts one last smirk in his direction, shakes his head, and walks away.  
  
  
 **Dean/Crowley - "kiss and make up"**  
  
"Come on, then, you're not really so angry about _her_ ," Crowley scoffs, waving a dismissive hand toward the bleeding corpse cooling on the floor where Dean left her, moments after pulling her out of Crowley's bed. "Not after all _your_ dalliances, sometimes when I'm right in the same _room_."  
  
Dean smiles, but the twist of his lips is cruel, frightening, and his eyes shine black over his smile as he closes in.  
  
"You're _mine_ ," he snarls softly, affectionate and menacing at once, before grabbing the hair at the back of Crowley's neck and dragging him into a fierce kiss that leaves his chest aching for breath, and Dean's lips smeared with his blood. " _Never_ forget that."


	2. Supernatural - Sam pairings

**Sam/Cas - "green with envy" (unrequited Dean/Cas, Dean POV)  
  
** It makes him feel sick.  
  
It's not like they don't deserve it - Sammy and Cas, after everything they've been through, all that they've lost.  
  
It's not like it doesn't make sense. After all, no one can quite understand the mistakes Sam's made in pursuit of the greater good, like Cas can - and vice versa. There's moments when Dean sees them looking at each other with a level of understanding that he can't seem to reach when it comes to either of them anymore.  
  
And _that_ \- that's what the problem is. That's why Dean can't quite bring himself to be genuinely, wholeheartedly happy for them.  
  
Because he can't help feeling like when Sam and Cas finally found each other - he lost them both.  
  
  
 **Sam/Gabriel - "towels" (30-word fill)**  
  
The steaming shower's just for pleasure, anyway. He can blink himself dry - so doesn't bother with the traditional towel around his waist.  
  
He's fairly certain Sam's enjoying the show, anyway.


	3. Glee (30 word fic)

**Puck/Blaine - "fighting" (30-word fill)  
  
** Puck yells, Blaine flinches - and Puck feels like the world's ultimate asshole.  
  
He forgot.  
  
From that moment on, it doesn't matter what they're arguing about. He always lets Blaine win.


	4. Grimm - Nick/Monroe and Nick/Monroe/Rosalee

**Nick/Monroe - "bad moon rising"  
  
** "I'm just saying... full moon, _blutbad_... it's not a great combination, and you might want to keep your distance; things could get a little... hairy, and I mean that in both the literal _and_ figurative senses."  
  
Nick smiles, shifts in closer so that Monroe has no choice but to step back, drawing in a nervous little breath when his back hits the wall - and that only makes Nick's smile widen, eyes gleaming with mischief as he leans in to nip at his boyfriend's mouth, relishing the shiver that passes through the _blutbad_ , the soft whimper that escapes his lips, as Nick leans in to whisper in his ear.  
  
 _"Pretty sure I can handle it."_  
  
  
 **Nick/Monroe/Rosalee - "coffee and roses"**  
  
He stands in the middle of a painfully generic gift shop for nearly an hour before he finally settles on choices which feel pitifully inadequate - but he can't show up to a first date empty-handed, and he hasn't been on any "first dates" in so long, even if he's known these particular dates for years now - it's confusing and frustrating and fucking _nerve-wracking_ , is what it is.  
  
Finally he makes his purchases and heads across town to the cozy little cottage with the stained glass in the front door, the one that feels as much like home as his own house at this point.  
  
Gourmet coffee for Monroe, red and white roses for Rosalee - both are ignored moments after they're given, as they surround him with love and acceptance and he suddenly wonders what he was ever worried about, as with words and touches they tell him what he should have known all along.  
  
 _"We've waited for you, for so long..."_


	5. The Voice - Blake/Adam short fills

**Blake/Adam - "it's the little things that matter"  
  
** Adam's pretty sure Blake's deliberately trying to drive him out of his mind.  
  
It's little things - Blake's thumb sliding just under the hem of Adam's shirt when he hugs him; Blake's lips close enough to brush Adam's ear as he leans in to be heard over the roar of the crowd; Blake's hand at the small of Adam's back as he walks past, and sliding just a touch lower than would seem strictly platonic - small and subtle clues.  
  
There's nothing subtle at all about the way Adam lunges at Blake later backstage, pushing into his space and knocking him off balance with a bold, forceful kiss; and nothing subtle at all about the way Blake recovers after a single stunned instant, grabbing Adam and reversing their positions, pushing him up against the wall and kissing him until he can't breathe.  
  
  
 **Blake/Adam - "lighthouse"**  
  
The place she leaves him in is dark and desolate, his heart aching and shivering with cold.  
  
He tries to numb it away with drugs and drink and sex - but in the end he's left empty and broken in the quiet loneliness of the room they once shared, wondering why he's not worth loving, why he always ends up alone... why no one ever stays.  
  
And then, Blake's there - arms strong and warm around him, the light shining from his eyes like a beacon guiding him back; Blake shushes his sobbed pleas and cradles him like a child, whispering a promise against his ear, "Shhh, it's all right, darlin'... I'm here now, and I'm not goin' anywhere..."  
  
  
 **Blake/Adam, side Blake/Gwen - "I fell off my pink cloud with a thud."**  
  
He feels guilty for feeling good about it, even a little - but when Blake shows up at his door late one night, heartbroken and dejected and more than a little drunk, confessing that it's over, that Miranda has finally made good on her threats and left him - Adam can't help feeling just a little bit of relief, that it's over and Blake can move on; and... and _hope_ , because... because maybe now there's a _chance_...  
  
Hope grows during the weeks that follow, as Blake and Adam grow closer than ever, Adam providing the support Blake needs to get through the heartbreak and find his way back to himself. They spend more and more time together, and Adam starts to feel like maybe something's finally blooming between them, after all this time.  
  
Colors are a little more vibrant, the pleasure of their shared time together is acutely sweet and strong, and Adam feels like he's floating every moment he's the center of Blake's focused attention.  
  
He comes crashing back down to earth with agonizing impact, the first time Blake walks onto the set, smiling that warm, affectionate smile at him, heading right toward him... and hand in hand with Gwen.


	6. The Voice - Blake/Adam "wall sex" fill ;)

**Blake/Adam - "wall sex"  
  
** Blake's voice is a low growl that sends shivers all up and down Adam's spine, as Blake grabs him and throws him up against the wall of his dressing room.  
  
"You little smart ass."  
  
He follows up the heated reproach with a fierce kiss that bumps Adam's head backward, the bruising force of it sucking the breath from his lungs and making him lightheaded.  
  
He twists away until his mouth is free and smirks up at Blake, even as Blake grabs his wrists and pins them over his head against the wall.  
  
"Yeah, so?" he taunts the larger man. "You know you love it."  
  
Blake's response is to tighten his grip on Adam's wrists until they ache just a little, leaning down to kiss him again and grinding his hips forward so that Adam lets out a little groan that's swallowed up in Blake's mouth.  
  
"Gonna teach you a lesson," Blake mutters breathlessly, pulling away long enough to grope the front of Adam's jeans, keeping his hands pinned helplessly in one large fist. "Teach you to run that smart mouth of yours..."  
  
"Yeah," Adam gasps out, approving. "You show me..."  
  
Blake unfastens Adam's jeans, then leans in and commands, low and warning in his ear, "Keep your hands where I put 'em."  
  
Adam shudders, nodding, closing his eyes as Blake releases his wrists long enough to yank the snug denim down over his hips and let it fall at his feet. A moment longer and Blake's shed his own jeans as well, and it's flushed skin against skin, Blake's rough, calloused right hand sliding down Adam's flank and then around in front to stroke him, swift and sure and insistent, as his left rises to grasp Adam's wrists again.  
  
Adam can't help squirming in Blake's grasp, desperate to ease the intensity, desperate for more, feeling his mounting arousal steal his coherence and replace it with wordless, pleading sounds that make Blake laugh, low and satisfied in his throat.  
  
And _fuck_ , but that sound does Adam in more than anything, making him whimper and gasp and plead and _come_ , hard and fast and like a fucking teenager, and he's only glad Blake got his pants off first and spared him _that_ humiliation.  
  
He catches his breath against the wall as Blake goes gentle and quiet, kissing his neck, stroking his bare skin in soothing touches, bringing him down, the haze slowly fading.  
  
Blake studies his face, concerned and affectionate, the way he always does when he thinks it's possible he _might_ have been just a little too rough - so Adam smirks up at him and takes advantage of his uncertainty to turn them around, pushing Blake up against the wall.  
  
Blake blinks at Adam in surprise as Adam sinks to his knees, maintaining eye contact so heated that he feels himself getting hard again just at the thought of what he's about to do. His voice is low and enticing, and Blake closes his eyes and leans his head back as Adam explains.  
  
 _"Your turn."_


	7. White Collar - Peter/Neal

**Peter/Neal - "eyes black as night" (vampire!Peter AU)  
  
** "Excuse me." The familiar voice is low and authoritative, sending a shiver of anticipation down Neal's spine, even as a strong hand closes, firm but oddly gentle around his wrist.  
  
The city street is crowded, twilight-dim as the sun sets and the street lights have yet to come on for the evening. Neal can hear the smile in Peter Burke's voice, feel the slight callused roughness of Peter's thumb against his pulse, as Peter continues quietly.  
  
"I'm going to have to ask you to come with me... Mr. Caffrey."  
  
Neal turns and gives Agent Burke his brightest, most charming smile. "Of course." He's quiet for a moment, giving the agent a slow, appraising look before confessing, "I've been expecting you."  
  
Agent Burke doesn't seem a bit fazed by that information. His smile doesn't slip, as he turns Neal around staying close behind him and shepherding him down the street, presumably toward the waiting black sedan a few hundred feet away.  
  
The crowd is thick, and it isn't long before they reach a place where it's easy for Neal to slip free of Burke's grasp and away into the darkness. He keeps his pace swift, weaving in and out of the faceless throng until he's certain he's left Peter far behind.  
  
The street is dark now, as he slows his pace and doubles back, making his way toward the room he's rented out for the week. His breath escapes him as a strong hand catches his arm and yanks him into the empty darkness of a deserted alleyway.  
  
Before he can speak or react, he's flung into the brick wall behind him, bracing for impact - but a large, warm hand cups the back of his head, strangely, affectionately protective. Neal blinks, his eyes adjusting until he can see Peter's face, a predatory smile on his lips.  
  
His eyes haven't fully adjusted yet, because he can't make out Peter's eyes - the shadows playing tricks with the light and making them seem inky black as Peter leans in close to Neal's face, crowding up against him and making Neal's heart race.  
  
"Gotta say, Agent Burke," he gasps out, more breathless and less in control than he'd like to be right now. "Don't think this is exactly proper FBI procedure, is it?"  
  
Peter's smile widens slightly, and he edges in closer. Neal flinches as Peter's fingers rise to brush against his throat.  
  
"You misunderstand me, Neal," he says softly, his breath oddly cool against Neal's skin. "You're not under arrest."  
  
Confusion gives way to shock, as Peter's mouth falls against Neal's neck - and then a sharp, piercing pain that makes the entire world seem to fade away, until all there is, is the hard strength of Peter's body against his, the soft prison of Peter's arms around him, and the inky swirling darkness of Peter's eyes as they swallow Neal down.  
  
  
 **Peter/Neal - "cold gray steel"**  
  
Peter's heart races as he rounds the corner, gun drawn, ready to intervene in this operation that's gone swiftly, terribly wrong.  
  
But the thief has already got one arm locked around Neal's neck, the gun in his hand pressed to Neal's temple - and Peter freezes, fighting off the cold bubble of fear that rises in his chest at the sight - cold, gray steel, unforgiving and ruthless, much closer to Neal than he can get, in time to stop it.  
  
"Back off!"  
  
The quavering note of panic in the thief's voice is by no means reassuring, and Peter finds himself lowering his weapon a little, holding up his free hand. He keeps his voice low and steady, hopefully calming, as he addresses the nervous man holding the deadly weapon to Neal's head.  
  
"Come on, now," he says softly. "You don't want to do this. Why don't you let him go so we can talk about this?"  
  
Neal's eyes are closed, and Peter can see that his entire body is taut with fear. All he can think about is how much Neal's _always_ hated guns, and he desperately hopes he can get this one away from him before any further damage is done.  
  
He doesn't even realize he's edging closer to the pair, eager to get to them, to get between the man with the gun, and Neal - until the thief glares at him with wide, sharp eyes, pressing the gun harder to Neal's head and pulling the hammer back.  
  
"I said _back off_!" he snarls. "I swear, if you don't I'll kill him right..."  
  
The gunshot is deafening in the small, cavernous room, and Peter's heart stops for a moment - until he sees the trickle of red sliding down the gunman's temple, and then the gunman's body collapses to the floor behind Neal - shaken, doubled over and protecting his head, as unsure as Peter, in that moment, of who it was who'd actually been shot.  
  
Peter is beside Neal in an instant, frantic hands roving over him, inspecting him for injuries, and whispering over and over, "It's okay, it's over, you're safe... you're safe, Neal, it's over, I've got you..."


End file.
